


Giving A Damn

by AvaRose



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oikawa loves Iwaizumi, One Shot, and Iwaizumi loves him back, knee injury, oikawa is stubborn, oikawa loves aliens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRose/pseuds/AvaRose
Summary: Oikawa's knee is giving a damn.





	

His knee was giving a damn again.

  
Oikawa had woken up with an ache pulsing against his leg, stiffening the whole limb. He could picture his ligaments knotted, his veins intertwined, his blood unable to flow. He had kicked his leg for long minutes, kneading his knee, trying to get the circulation back. The agony coursing through his leg was blinding him. He had bitten his lower lip so hard a crescent of crimson was etched against it.

  
Outside, mist had fallen on the town, drowning the houses in a shroud of grey. Humidity was unfurling in waves. No wonder his knee was giving a damn again. Particles of water would seep through the pores and slither inside his muscles. They were like rust attacking his well-oiled engine. He would be damned if he didn’t train today. His knee could go to hell.

  
His knee hadn’t gone to hell. It had _given_ him hell. His morning practice had been smooth, but being seated hadn’t helped him. The rust seemed to have spread down to his toes. His evening performance at volleyball had been so much below his standards that his teammates kept on sending him sideways glances. His coach had been staring at him with narrowed eyes and folded arms yet had remained silent as Oikawa had cringed after his jump serve.

  
“Shittykawa.”

 

“Yes, Iwa-chan?” He chirped, flashing the ace a smile.

  
Preserving the appearances was vital. Iwa-chan didn’t seem to buy it. He was glaring at Oikawa’s permanent, white knee-holder.

  
“Your knee.”

  
“Yes, I do have a knee, and it’s the most magnificent knee you’ll ever see.”

  
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  
Oikawa avoided his Iwaizumi’s eyes that were unravelling him. Everyone was practising their serves. He couldn’t help pinpointing the mistakes in their stance or calculating the time before their palm hit the ball. The sound of volleyballs smashing against the floor echoed in the gymnasium. Iwaizumi’s sigh was almost drowned in the noise.

  
“You should stop.”

  
Oikawa snorted, “Make me.”

  
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, picking a volleyball off the floor. He tossed it with nonchalance at Oikawa who caught adroitly without even looking.

  
“Pushing yourself to your limits won’t help you.”

  
“Not training will not help me either.”

 

His knee merely throbbed in answer. Oikawa threw the ball up, his breath slowing. His gaze sharpened as he sized it. The blue and yellow stripes caught the light, imprinting themselves in his irises. His hands twitched, zealous to slam it on the ground. For a hundredth of a second, the ball stilled in the air. Oikawa rushed, his legs bracing themselves, then propelled him in the air. His torso twisted, following the motion of his arm drawing back. The ball was falling down, but his hand connected with a sound of thunder. Before anyone knew it, it had crossed the gymnasium and collided with the ground, even before Oikawa’s feet touched the floor as he gracefully landed.

  
He smiled. It had been a perfect jump serve. By the corner of his eyes he caught his coach’s approving nod and the awe on his teammates’ features. He was about to turn to Iwaizumi when his knee complained. He winced before he could stop himself, his ligaments straining. He felt himself toppling forward, but two strong arms closed around his shoulders.

  
“And you say it doesn’t hurt. You’re such a liar, Shittykawa.”

 

“Ah, Iwa-chan is so mean. I’m not a liar. I never said it did hurt after all.”

  
He was half-dragged up to the bench with his coach, Nobuteru Irihata. A deep frown was marring the ace’s features, his eyes brimming with annoyance. Oikawa plopped himself down, sending a withering look at his knee. Nobuteru sighed beside him.

  
“You have to control yourself, Oikawa-kun.”

 

“I am in control,” he grumbled.

  
“If you are, then you would’ve known not to exert yourself.”

  
Oikawa huffed, looking away. He had gained the injury in training in similar circumstances. The muscles had been too strained, and his knee had ended up buckling underneath him. He had cursed the entire time he had been barricaded in the nurse’s office, itching to go back to the gym.

  
“I have a nurse training. May I see?” Sadayuki asked.

  
Oikawa grunted his approval. He unwrapped the knee-holder, revealing the skin a shade paler than the rest of his leg. Gingerly, he applied pressure with one finger on the side of his knee, eliciting a hiss from the setter.

  
Sadayuki watched him sympathetically. “That much?”

  
“I’ve had worse. It’s because of the humidity.”

  
“You’re not practising more today. Iwaizumi-kun could take you back ho—”

  
 _Everything but that_. “I can watch.”

  
“You’re not very useful when you can train, so imagine when you can’t,” Iwaizumi huffed.

  
Oikawa pouted, “So rude.”

  
Pairs of eyes were weighing down him. He knew his juniors were hovering around, trying to catch pieces of their conversation. Coach Nobuteru stood on his feet and almost shooed them away with his glower. They scattered, resuming to their serves.

  
“Do whatever you want. You always do it anyway.”

  
Iwaizumi strode away to Watari, asking him to practice. Oikawa watched them, sitting idly next to Sadayuki. Brooding, he stretched his legs. It was a second nature for him since he had committed his movements to memory. His muscles contracted. His breath quivered as pain akin to a spear pierced his knee. He kneaded the knee with more strength than necessary, regretting it as the ache rippled through his body. He needed to relax, but his inability to perfect his arsenal was getting to him. His shoulders tensed on their own, and his jaw clenched as he stared at his team evolving without him. Yet the knot in his stomach slowly uncurled as they passed ahead of him.

  
They were beautiful to watch. Kindaichi’s spikes were gaining in intensity. Soon, they would pulverise the most powerful blocks erected in front of him. Beside him, Kunimi was calm incarnate as he spiked the ball. The first year’s strength lied in his efficiency and his calmness, often needed when the game was reaching its climax. Kyotani, or Mad Dog as he liked to call him, was spiking with Yahaba’s tosses. The first was like a powerful and uncontrollable canon and the second, a reliable and accurate pocketknife. Mattsun and Hanamaki were practising together, the seniors wearing smirks on their face. They were the most balanced of the team, able to play three positions instead of only one. Oikawa’s eyes strayed to Watari and Iwaizumi. Their official libero was also excellent as a setter, and proved himself to be a marvellous trump card in matches. As for the ace, he was brawn as he jumped, uncoiling to meet the ball, and yet he was brains, as he sent the volleyball exactly where he wanted it to land.

  
Oikawa’s lips curled. Oh yes, they were a wonderful team. They fit in like puzzle pieces, standing stronger together and lessening each other rougher edges. But the stronger piece, the star pulling the solar system together, the dash of colour across the canvas, was missing, for he was sitting on a bench with an inflexible knee. He was talking about himself, of course.

  
When practice finally came to an end, he had stretched his knee enough to be able to stand on his own. He waved at his teammates, but mainly at Iwaizumi, who was making it clear he refused to even look at him. He was downing his water bottle, his back facing him.

  
“I’m all better now,” Oikawa declared, staring at him. “Isn’t that great?”

  
“No, it’s not. It means you’re even more annoying than before.”

  
“Iwa-chan, don’t try to hide your feelings about me. I know you think I’m irresistible.”

  
“As irresistible as the garbage cans beside the school, yes.”

  
“So mean.”

  
“So true.”

  
Oikawa stuck his tongue at him like a child and Iwaizumi looked away, shaking his head. His hand waved in the air as if in dismissal. Oikawa tilted his head higher, proud he had got the last word. But his knee was straining again. He chose to lean on the wall, folding his arm in the most casual way he could muster. His teammates were leaving, bidding him a good evening. Cool air was filtering through the gym, washing away the drafts of sweat. Oikawa shifted his weight on his good leg, trying to stop the corner of his lips from tugging in a grimace.

  
“Iwa-chan, walk me home!”

  
“So you get to bother me more? No way.”

  
“Aw, don’t say that. You’ll break my heart.”

  
“What heart?”

  
Oikawa thumped against his chest theatrically, “The heart right there, the heart that everybody wants to steal.” _But guess what? You are the one who have stolen it, Iwa-chan._

  
“I’ll walk you home. It’s because you’re such a child and that can’t take care of yourself,” he added.

  
Oikawa wanted to bounce around but knew better. Instead, he sauntered to him, failing to hide the faint limp in his leg. Iwaizumi watched him approaching with narrowed eyes and then grabbed his arm, wrapping it around his neck. It set Aoba’s captain off balance, but Iwaizumi secured him against himself. Their knees bumped together.

  
“If you fall, I won’t help you to get back on your feet.”

  
“Iwa-chan, you’re like my Prince Charming.”

  
He received a slap on the head as an answer. He stifled a laugh against his hand, then snuggled against the side of the ace’s neck. Strands of the former’s dark hair brushed his forehead. Iwaizumi’s warmth was tickling his nose. If it irritated the ace, he didn’t complain anything about it. His lips were pursed in a thin line that showed no content or annoyance. Oikawa breathed out, volutes of mist escaping from his mouth in the cold air. It didn’t help his knee. It seemed like their gears were jammed, the friction creating a drizzle of sparkles.

  
“You’ve been training a lot lately.”

  
“Of course. I have to set the example as a captain.”

  
“You’ve been training more than usual and don’t try to deny it, Shittykawa.”  
  


“Alright, you’ve got me redhanded. What are you going to do about it?”

  
Iwaizumi met his eyes. Oikawa was staring at him with his signature flirtatious smirk, but the ace caught the absent wrinkles beside his eyes. The girls he flirted with would see nothing but fire. His team members would shrug it off after a moment of hesitation. But Iwaizumi, the ace who received most of his tosses, his childhood friend, saw what no one else could.

  
“It’s because of Karasuno.”

  
Oikawa’s knee almost yielded. “It’s not.”

  
“You can lie to yourself but don’t lie to me.”

  
He paused before muttering, “Six who are strong are stronger than flightless crows.”

  
“But they’re not flightless anymore since they beat us.”

  
Iwaizumi did catch the clench of his jaw as Oikawa hissed, “We’ll take it back. We’re definitely going to win next time.”

  
A response wasn’t needed. _Next time_. They both remembered the burn in their heart as the ball had bounced on the gymnasium floor. They both remembered the ache of their wrists and palms when they exited the court. They both remembered the stickiness of their skin as they doused it with cold water. They both remembered the stinging of their eyes as they fought against tears. Both of them, as their eyes locked, knew deep in their soul that they would win next time. They weren’t alone. They were a team and they would win as a team.

  
“But for now you have to rest.”

  
“Damn knee...”

  
Iwaizumi tightened his grip. Oikawa sighed yet nestled his head back on his shoulder. It lulled with each bump, each step he took towards home. If resting meant staying this way with the ace, then he would do it everyday. Well, maybe not everyday. He still needed to play volleyball. Yet he agreed to take a break for now.

  
“Do you want to watch a movie at my house?”

  
Iwaizumi’s shoulders jolted as he sent him an irritated look. “Not another crappy alien movie...”

  
“If it’s an alien movie then it can’t be crappy.”

  
“If it’s a movie you chose, it’s bound to be rubbish, Trashykawa.”  
  


“How dare you insult my fantastic aliens,” Oikawa shouted petulantly. “I chose those movies and you should know that since I’m perfect, everything I choose is perfect.”

  
“Perfect at being unperfect.”

 

“Oh, but that’s a way of being perfect,” the captain beamed. “You know, Iwa-chan, I’m unperfect for everyone but I’m perfect for you.”

  
He didn’t answer, but Oikawa could see the curve of his ears reddening. He was almost swept away by a fit of giggles, but his knee gave a damn again. He hissed, eyes narrowing to slits. He would’ve crumbled in the mud if Iwaizumi hadn’t been vigilant next to him. He secured Oikawa in his arms before his body would pitch forward, his breath ghosting over his cheeks.

  
“I’ll watch those crappy alien movies if you want,” he murmured.

  
“Of course you will. You can’t refuse anything I ask.”

  
Beat. Iwaizumi’s hand flew across the hand to whack Oikawa’s. The captain yelped, rubbing the back of his head with a pout.

  
“ _Itai_! Iwa-chan is so mean to hit me when I’m injured!”

 

“Your knee may be injured, but your ego needs some bruising. I can’t let you think you can do everything you want. And for now, you can’t play volleyball.”

  
“But I can get you to watch my spectacular alien movies with me. Not bad, eh?”

  
His lips curled almost instinctively. “Not bad.”

  
His knee was giving a damn, yes, but Oikawa couldn’t care less. As long as Iwaizumi was there to catch him, was there to watch marvellous alien movies with him, was there to spike his tosses, was there to smile at him, then he didn’t give a damn.


End file.
